“The kid's driving me bat-shit," Cam complained as he stalked into the kitchen. "You can't say boo to him without him squaring up for a fight.""Mm-hmm.""Argumentative, smart-mouthed, troublemaker.""Must be like looking in a mirror.""Like hell.""Don't know what I was thinking of. You're such a peaceable soul.”

“I'm scared of him," said Piggy, "and that's why I know him. If you're scared of someone you hate him but you can't stop thinking about him. You kid yourself he's all right really, an' then when you see him again; it's like asthma an' you can't breathe...”

“Besides, you don't look a thing like him. I mean… hello? You're this beefy Irish white boy. He's like… bus exhaust or some shit.”

“How long could we do this before you started bitching?" Simon said as we turned down another street of apartment buildings."What?""We've been walking for two days now, and you haven't complained once. It's damned annoying, you know."I looked at him."If you don't complain, then I can't complain. Not without sounding like a whiny little snot.”

“I looked up to find a slim blond figure standing in the doorway to the kitchen. For a frozen second, I looked at him and he looked at me, and then I screamed and threw my coffee, which hit him square in the groin.”

“It must be because you're so approachable,' I say flatly. 'You know. Like a bed of nails.'He stares at me, and I don't look away. He isn't a dog but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It's my choice.Heat rushes into my cheeks. What will happen when this tension breaks?But he just says, 'Careful, Tris.”